


Butterflies (A Short Komahina Story)

by BlackBassHangout



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blood and Gore, Corpse Desecration, Ghosts, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Necrophilia, Obsession, Psychological Horror, Skin Suit, Spirits, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBassHangout/pseuds/BlackBassHangout
Summary: He loved Nagito, and Nagito loved him just a bit too much.AUTHORS NOTE: Please read the tags, this is a short story but a very dark one, and I don’t want anyone to be extremely affected by this.P.S Don't read this while eating.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 19
Kudos: 22





	Butterflies (A Short Komahina Story)

It was hard for Hajime to deny he used to liked Nagito.

Something about the Ultimate had butterflies flutter in his stomach after every interaction, and he hated it. Especially since he had the strange feeling he couldn’t put his finger on when alone with him. Like he had to leave as soon as possible. It was probably just his nerves, is something he constantly told himself. 

But now there was no way to say that now. Not when Nagito’s closet was filled with nothing but memento’s of Hajime. 

A prayer mat in front of a low shelf covered in little things like old underwear he didn’t remember he had or even a used condom he masturbated in to keep from making a mess. And then the pictures… god there was so many pictures. The wall was barely seen underneath the hundreds of printed photo’s covering them, all of the laminated pieces of him seemed to be the only thing he remembered about his life before.

Candles covered any open storage not dedicated to him, and from the not so distant smell lingering it was the same smell as his shampoo. He wished he could’ve ignored the smell of blood coming from the other room. As much as he knew he would enter the room eventually, he didn’t want to admit what he would see. 

Nagito didn’t deserve that ridicule.

He still cared for his friend, even after what he did, but he couldn’t go to the room he was dancing around in. Not with his dance partner being there. The thought of them made him gag, he wanted to burn that fucking thing so his soul wouldn’t be trapped here anymore.

If only he could, but now he was nothing. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t barge into the room where his own, skinned, rotting corpse was pulled along in a mindless dance by his killer, all whilst Nagito dressed up in the same skin that had been cruelly taken from him. Maybe it would’ve been better if he was dead before it was carefully sliced from him. 

He sighed, the whole point of being in this room and not in the others was to forget that… but he supposed the few rooms his spirit wandered were covered head to toe in his dried blood. The substance looked almost brown from how long it had sat in an endless limbo.

“Hajime~!”

He heard a muffled voice cry out, bringing a shiver down his spine. It seemed the other was back to making his sick form of sweet love to the corpse again. The brunette was unsure of what pleasure it provided, but Nagito always made anything Hajime did into a wonderful experience, at least in his own mind.

But he didn’t know where to hide, so he just waited. Waited for the sound of his corpse being violated to stop. Waited for sirens to grow nearer instead of disappearing into the distance. Waited for something.

Finally, Nagito walked out of the room, closing the door behind him as he removed the human skin he often pranced around in. It was weird to think that the now starch white, bloodless material was once Hajime.. 

His eyes briefly wandered to the bathroom… well, he knew he would enter eventually. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. 

On nervous nonexistent feet, he treaded lightly, passing through the door to the bathroom. If he could throw up, he would.

The stench of the rotting flesh was enough to make anyone pass out, and good lord did the image match the smell. The rotting muscle sagged off of his bones and his body looked almost brown. His anus leaked semen, and the rest of his body was covered in it, while what was left of his nipples looked like they where bitten off, only a sliver of flesh keeping it connected. 

If he was told his body would end up in a bathtub to be some psychos sex zombie, he would’ve left Hopes Peak in the blink of an eye. He just didn’t understand. Why would he do this? Why would he leave the evidence all over his house? Did he truly believe he’d get away with it? 

Perhaps he was never meant to know what would happen of his oldest friend, or what made him do this. 

Hajime didn’t know how long he’d been staring, but however long it was seemed to be enough time for Nagito, as he re-entered the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Sunlight seeped through the open door, had he been here all night? He wouldn’t be surprised, he had gotten very used to making hours feel like minutes. 

He shook his head, he didn’t want to see this. 

The last thing he saw as he heading back to the shrine of him was Nagito gently kissing his corpse’s forehead with a longing, loving, disgusting gaze. 

“Goodbye Nagito…” Hajime mumbled to himself, knowing very well the man couldn’t hear him.


End file.
